Gwynneth Ever After (13 page)

He turned off the water again, shaking his head at the sheer domesticity of the whole situation. If anyone had told him a week ago that he’d be helping out with dishes and plumbing and sick kids, he would have laughed outright at both messenger and idea. So how did something that should have been ludicrous turn out to feel so right?

A noise from the sitting room drew his attention and he glanced over to see Nicholas squirm in his sleep. Without waking, Gwyn reached for the little boy, drawing him further into her warmth, and he relaxed once more.
 

A hollow formed beneath Gareth’s ribcage. He really had missed out, hadn’t he? He’d suspected it all along, of course. Hell, he’d regretted handing over Amy to Catherine almost before the ink had dried. But he’d never had it driven home like this. Never really stopped – or dared - to think about the thousand little things he’d missed never shared with his daughter: the stories, the hugs, the fleeting moments of innocence and trust. His mouth tightened.

He’d been
such
an idiot.

He draped the dish cloth over the faucet and wiped his hands against the seat of his jeans. Enough. Katie had gone upstairs to put on pajamas and brush her teeth, so he had time to phone Sean. He wasn’t holding his breath that Catherine would have called with anything but more complaints, but hey, miracles happened.

His cousin answered on the fifth ring.

“Yeah.”

“Did I interrupt something?” He didn’t think Bunny looked the type to stick around this long, but you never knew.

“No, I just got tired of running for the telephone so I could pretend to be your answering service.”

“Ah. I take it Catherine called, then?”

“I’ve been writing the messages on sticky notes. Another hundred or so and I’m thinking I’ll have enough to wallpaper the living room.”

Gareth pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “Should I apologize?”

Sean sighed. “Nah. It’s not your fault. But for your sake, I sure as hell hope Amy doesn’t turn out to be a case of
like mother, like daughter
. Oh, and before I forget, Angela called again, too. She said it was urgent. You keeping secrets, cuz?”

“Now that you mention it, yes, but Angela’s not one of them. She’s my agent. She thinks everything is urgent.”

“She left a number – ”

“I have it, thanks. What about Catherine? What was the message from her?”

“Let’s see. ‘Call me. Tell him I called. Call me. Why hasn’t he called me? Call me as soon as possible.’ Do you want me to continue?”

“That’s okay. I think I got the message.”

“No pun intended, right? Tell me again why can’t I give her your cell number?”

Gareth looked into the sitting room at the peaceful, slumbering trio.
Because that part of my life doesn’t belong here. Because I haven’t decided yet if
I
belong here. Because Gwyn deserves better from me than to drag Catherine into her home.

“Because I asked you not to.”

A pause. Then Sean drawled, “Right. So how is she, anyway?”

“Who?”

“The one you can’t tell about Catherine and Amy. Gwen, or Gwyn, or whatever.”

“Gwyn,” Gareth said. “And she’s fine. She’s sleeping right now. Two of her kids are down with chicken pox and she didn’t have a very good night.”

Silence.

“Two of her kids have chicken pox, and so you’re just there helping out,” Sean finally replied.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“On your holiday.”

“It’s not really a holiday, and until Amy gets back, there’s not a lot else for me to do anyway.”

“So you thought you’d step in and play daddy to someone else’s kids for a few days for what – fun?”

Gareth paused in polishing his fingerprints from the chrome faucet. Annoyance stirred in him. “It’s not like that.”

His cousin grunted. “Uh huh. And I suppose when Amy gets back and you have something to fill your time, you’re just going to walk away, right?”

“Her kids are sick, and she could use a hand. Is that a crime?”

“That depends on whether or not they’re used to having strange men walk in and out of their lives,” Sean observed.

A hard note underlined his voice, born of personal experience. Sean hadn’t spent his childhood summers with Gareth’s family in England because of a warm, sunny childhood here. With divorced parents and a mother who had been rather free with her “friendships,” those few brief weeks every summer had been the only stability in his cousin’s life for years.

“I haven’t asked,” he said.

“Don’t you think you should? With the amount of time you’re spending at that house – like every waking hour – someone’s going to get attached to you pretty soon. Or you to them.”

“I’m a big boy, Sean. I think I know the risks.”

“Then you’re a bloody fool, because you have no idea what the risks are. What the hell is it that’s so bloody attractive about this woman, anyway?”

A thousand things. Everything. Gareth studied Gwyn’s face in repose and cleared his throat.

“She’s pretty – ”
Make that beautiful...

“So are a million other women.”

“She’s smart, she’s sweet – ”
And sexy as hell...

“I repeat, so are a million other women,” Sean growled.

“She’s not like a million other women, Sean. She’s different.”

Sean snorted.

Gareth pulled his gaze from Gwyn and scowled at the phone. His cousin’s rocky-childhood excuse only went so far. “Are you
trying
to irritate me?” he demanded. “Because if so, you’re succeeding.”

“I’m just trying to get you to see reason,” Sean said wearily. “You want to hear my theory on what you find so attractive about her?”

Gareth had strong ideas regarding what Sean should do with his
theory
, but a tug on his shirtsleeve distracted him before he could speak them.

“Gareth?” a sad little voice asked.
 

Gareth glanced down, took one look at Katie’s tear-stained face, and promptly hung up on both cousin and theory. He crouched down to the little girl’s level, taking her hands in his. “Katie, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Will Maggie and Nicholas be finished their chicken pox tomorrow?”

He hid a smile. “I don’t think so, love. Why?”

Her head drooped and fresh tears flowed in the wake of the others. “Nothing.”

Gareth circled her tiny waist with his hands, straightened up, and lifted her onto the stool beside the island counter. “It must be something,” he said. “People don’t cry for nothing.”

He plucked a tissue from the box on top of the refrigerator and dried her tears. “If you tell me, maybe I can help.”

Katie snuffled. “It’s job day tomorrow.”

He tried, but drew a blank. “Job day?” he asked.

“Mommy’s supposed to come and tell my class about her job. All the other parents are going to be there.”

Ah. Of course. “Well, maybe mummy can come another day,” he suggested. “Maggie and Nicholas will only be sick for a few more days and...” He trailed off as fresh tears flooded Katie’s eyes.

“But tomorrow’s the only day,” she wailed. “Madame Morin won’t let her come another day!”

Gareth heard Gwyn stir in the sitting room. Hastily, he lifted Katie down and steered her out of the kitchen, grabbing the tissue box on his way. When they reached the stairs at the other end of the hallway, far enough not to wake the others, he settled Katie on the small landing and himself a step below her. “Right,” he said. “Now we can talk. Are you sure tomorrow’s the only day? Maybe Madame Morin will make an exception for mummy if she knows – ”

Katie shook her head. “She said that if the mommies and daddies couldn’t come tomorrow then they’d have to come next year, but it’s already next year and Mommy promised!”

It’s already next year?

“Was mummy supposed to come to job day last year?” he hazarded.

Katie gave a miserable nod. Her chin quivered. “Maggie was sick last year too. And Mommy said this year she’d come. She promised!”

Yes, he’d gotten that. Gareth propped his chin in one hand, his elbow resting on his knee, and regarded the distraught little girl. He wracked his brain for a solution.

“Could someone else come instead?” he suggested. “What about Auntie Sandy?”

“She came last year!” Katie buried her face against her knees, the epitome of abject misery. Her small frame shook with sobs. “Mommy promised!” came the repeated mumble.

Gareth rubbed the little girl’s back. He could think of few occasions when he’d felt more helpless. He considered offering to look after the twins while Gwyn went to the school, but he somehow didn’t think any of them would take to that idea at this stage of illness. “Someone else, then. What about – ”

Katie’s head lifted. “Could you come?” she asked.

Gareth’s mouth flapped. He stared into blue eyes, identical to her mother’s, swimming in a sea of tears. Hope stared back.

So did innocent trust.

He held back a sigh. He couldn’t go, of course. A visit to a classroom hardly fell into the low-profile category demanded by Catherine or promised to Amy.
 

Mindful of his young companion’s fragility, he formed his refusal with great care. He might even have uttered it, if Katie’s soft, sweet voice hadn’t just then added, “Please?”

The word stopped him in his tracks. He stared down at the little girl, thinking of how she had cried herself to sleep all those nights over a missing father, of how hard Gwyn had worked to comfort her, be there for her, heal her. He thought of how he himself had been an absentee father, theoretically causing the same havoc in another child’s life. His jaw tightened.

No more.

He had it within his grasp to begin making amends. Here. Now. Catherine and the media be hanged.

As for Amy – well, surely she would understand.

Reaching out to ruffle Katie’s blond head, he smiled.
 

“I would be honored to come,” he said.

Chapter 18

Gwyn came awake with a start as the warmth nestled against her side lifted away. Blinking away a blur of exhaustion, she looked up at Maggie, snuggled into strong, male arms. Gareth’s dark gaze met hers over the little blond head. He smiled.

“You all fell asleep,” he whispered. “Nicholas and Katie are both tucked in. I just came back for Maggie.”

“I’ll do it,” she offered automatically, moving to rise from the sofa. A hand on top of her head halted her mid-way. She looked up at Gareth again. “Or not?” she hazarded.

“Or not,” he agreed. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She remained on the couch while he was gone, entirely too comfortable to move. He’d placed a blanket over her at some point, and she snuggled into its warmth, drifting in the state of semi-consciousness that came with sleep deprivation. A few minutes later, she heard him rummaging around in the kitchen, and then his steps across the creaky, tiled floor and into the sitting room. Rousing herself, she opened her eyes and stared at the steaming cup of tea he held out to her.

“Are you awake enough to hold it, or is it safer on the table?” he asked.

She took the cup. “Thank you.”

He sat down beside her. “Did the sleep help at all?”

The mere mention of the word had her yawning. She covered her mouth with her free hand and turned rueful eyes on him. “I suspect it will take more than a fifteen-minute nap to make up for what I’ve missed.”

A smile quirked one corner of his mouth, pulling his deep laugh lines into play. “Two hours, actually.”

She stared. “No.”

“You all nodded off during the story. It was a toss-up as to who went first, to be honest. Katie helped me clean the kitchen, then did her homework. I tucked her in at eight. We didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“I’m so sorry – ”

“Why? You needed it.”

“Well, yes, but – ”

“Gwyn. You needed it.”

She swallowed further objection and asked instead, “Was Katie okay going to bed on her own?”

“She was fine. It was actually her idea.” Gareth leaned back and stretched his arm out along the back of the couch. “You really do have great kids, you know.”

She raised an eyebrow and smiled into her tea, trying hard to ignore the warmth radiating from his hand as it rested behind her neck. “In spite of the oatmeal incident?”

He chuckled. “In spite of that,” he agreed. “By the way, Katie asked me to remind you that tomorrow is job day."

Horror enveloped Gwyn. Katie had been so upset when she hadn’t made it last year – the poor baby would be crushed if it happened again.

“Damn!” she groaned, letting her head drop against the couch cushion behind her and hastily raising it again when she connected with gentle fingers instead. “I completely forgot. Katie will never forgive me.”

Gareth cleared his throat. “Actually, she might. If you let me go instead.”

Her heart thudded to a standstill. “You?”